Some Mistakes Cost More
by Rowana1
Summary: Happy Valentines' Day, my Mind-Twin! Ducking and Diving Tag. Some mistakes can cost more than others, some mistakes can't be reversed. Some mistakes are forever. Rated for blood and Charrie Death. Faint Will/Djaq


**Ah...you'll know it's for you XD Happy Valentines' Day, Mellon Nin! ^;^**

~Some Mistakes cost More~

Mistakes could cost a lot more than people gave them credit for. A bad choice here, a poorly devised plan there, they could take away so much more than people thought. Betrayals were one form of mistake, taking away trust and family both, taking away any chance of being truly accepted. Only hell had room for traitors.

But there were other, less obvious mistakes that one could make. The mistake of not fully thinking something through, the mistake of judging how people besides oneself would react to things, the mistake of thinking you know every move even your closest friends would make if presented with certain challenges.

But these mistakes didn't seem clear enough to merit consideration, nor worthy make note of never doing again.

These mistakes didn't count until they came crashing into view, all too visible and impossible to make right.

These mistakes were the sorts that could never be taken back.

* * *

Robin strode through the forest with his head held high, the tiniest flicker of sadness rippling in his mind. Now wasn't the correct time to grieve over the loss of Allan A Dale as a member of the group, nor mourn his descent into the realm of betrayers and true vagabonds. Nightfall would bring that time, in dreams alone where the emotion of regret would go unseen by anyone else.

It couldn't visably affect him; it had to appear as if the fate of someone so obviously opposed to the fine trade that had been crafted by this bunch of outlaws wasn't the least bit troubling.

He couldn't care. It just didn't matter, Allan had chosen his own path.

He'd made a mistake.

Robin looked over as he was joined by first Much, and then Little John. Djaq followed soon after. So they hadn't quite scattered after all. It seemed the bonds of companionship couldn't be broken quite so easily, it was no coinsidence that they'd all been lurking so close by. He remained silent; not everyone was present yet, and he didn't want to repeat himself when he spoke the traitors' true identity.

Will had to hear it along with everyone else, and the sooner they realized that he hadn't betrayed them the better. He hadn't paused to consider whether the carpenter would understand the reason behind his fake banishing, or if he'd even realize that it hadn't been real. Surely the order to return at sunset had told him that much, but perhaps not.

No, he was nearby. He had to be.

But then, maybe Robin should tell the others that Will had done no wrong _before _calling him. Otherwise, well, he remembered Johns' reaction to Roy. And his own feux reaction to the enforced pretend treachery of Will Scarlet. But he'd stop them from doing anything foolish the moment he actually saw Will.

Looking at the others for a moment, he held his hands on either sides of his mouth to amplify sound and, drawing a deep breath, shouted, "Will!"

And there he was, pushing his way through the undergrowth and wearing an almost identical confused expression to the one he'd had the last time Robin had seen him. There were also, Robin noted, several scratches on his face, along with a few bruises from the three punches thrown at him earlier. Robin grimaced; he hadn't meant to hit the boy that hard, but Djaq probably had something to take care of whatever damage had been done.

He was hardly aware of Muchs' yell, "Will!"

His was a yell of not summons, but surprise, and he no doubt thought the same of Robins' cry. Before Robin could move, Much had drawn his sword and was charging full pelt at the still-nervous Scarlet across the small clearing.

Robin was too surprised to make any move to stop him, and the others were equally as unsure of what to do, even Djaq.

Much wouldn't really _use _the sword, they all knew that.

Will, looking unnerved as Much closed the distance between them, shot Robin a short, fearful look, taking first one step back away from Much, then glancing at the fury written on Muchs' face and began backpeddling so quickly that he nearly tripped.

A mistake that cost him dearly.

With a yell of, "Traitor!" Much slammed into Will, driving him back against a tree and grabbing him by the throat before looking at Robin for instruction. Ah, so he didn't intend to kill Will, only use the sword to keep him from escaping. He was just as unsure of what to do with a traitor as the rest of them were.

Robin sighed in relief, walking calmly toward Much and speaking slowly. "Much, Will didn't-"

But as he drew nearer, he noticed that something wasn't quite right.

Much still had one hand at Wills' throat, the other was blocked from view, along with most of Will, by Much himself, as Robin was approching from the back and could therefore only see one arm. But that was exactly what was wrong; he should have also been able to see the hand holding the sword, as well as the tip of the sword near one side of Wills' face.

But he couldn't and, as he drew nearer, he saw that Wills' eyes were wide with shock, his face was pale, and he seemed...wrong, somehow.

And then Robin came closer still and saw why.

Muchs' sword was in Wills' stomach, a dark stain spreading quickly across the front of the carpenters' tunic. Much, not having realized his mistake, looked at Robin again. "Well, what are we to do? He might be leading them to our camp or-"

Robin, sighing heavily, shook his head. "Much..." he let his gaze flicker down just long enough to make Much look in the same direction.

The change was instantanious. Much leapt back, letting go of the sword. Now his eyes, too, were wide. He flashed Robin a look of panic, looking back to Will with an expression of horror. Too shocked to speak, he gestured almost mindlessly, not knowing if he'd just done them all a service or made a terrible mistakes.

Will, trying to remain standing, grasped at the sword, whimpering softly and looking at Robin through unfocused eyes, wobbling unsteadily and trying to speak, finding himself unable to make any sound beyond a choking gasp. A frightened countenance came over him and his hands scrabbled more desperately at the blade of the sword, drawing blood with the force of each attempt to remove it.

Robin felt, more than saw, Djaq rush past him, no longer caring if Will had betrayed them or not, though unbeknownst to Robin, she knew perfectly well that Will hadn't.

She knew what mistake had led them here.

Before Djaq could reach him, Will staggered forward, collapsing to his knees with a pained groan. He didn't really know what had just happened to him, only that it _hurt_. He felt strange, as if he were being pulled backward or held underwater for too long. He felt numb, yet there seemed to be fire coursing through him with every breath. Yet, though each breath brought pain, he found that the task of drawing breath was becoming harder, and that a new sort of pain was beginning to flood over him. He looked to Robin for help,

Only to have his eyes meet with darkness.

Robin could see John standing next to him, could hear Much rambling about something or another, but found his attention mainly focussed on Djaq, who'd dropped to her knees in front of Will, who was trying to see how bad the damage was before he caused even more of it. Trying to find out if this mistake was going to cost them another member of their group.

"He's a traitor anyway!" Robin heard Much say, well, it was more of a yelp than anything else. Shaking his head sadly, Robin kept his focus on Djaq. "He's not the traitor..." he murmured, "Allan is."

Much gaped, while John rounded on Robin almost angrily. "_What_?"

Robin nodded, keeping his eyes firmly planted on Djaq, who was probing the area around the sword lightly, trying to tell if it could be safely removed. "What you all saw," he said softly, "With Will...that was an act...to get the real traitor to show himself."

Djaq looked back at him furiously. "Why?" she asked, anger lacing her words, a faint edge of worry to her voice.

Their leader took a step closer to the Saracen and carpenter. "Is he...you can save him?"

Djaq hung her head. "I don't know...I can't tell, not here...I don't have the right things...and he can't be moved...not like this."

Robin mentally cursed himself, but felt the need to justify his own actions before speaking further of his comrade. "The traitor would have gone to the Trip to tell the serving maid not to reveal his identity when telling me what all they'd told Gisborne, and I'd be able to-"

Djaq, now paying more attention to Will, shook her head. "Then why did we have to think Will was the traitor? Would it not have done the same thing to tell us you were going to speak with the serving maid and have her tell you who the traitor was? What purpose did that serve?"

Robin started to speak, only to drop his gaze to Will. "I...it was a mistake..."

His eyes followed the thin trail of blood that was slowly dripping from the carpenters' mouth and he shuddered; it was his, Robins', fault that this had happened. If not for him then Will would never have been stabbed, wouldn't be possibly dying.

But the mistake had already been made.

John approached and placed a hand on Djaqs' shoulder. "The sword-" he said slowly, "Shouldn't you-?"

Djaq closed her eyes for a moment. "No," she said quietly, "That would only kill him faster...I don't know if it hit anything important; pulling it out could do more damage than good..."

Much spoke up for the first time since the deed had been done. "I could run back to camp," he suggested, panic and guilt dripping from his words, "Get your supplies so you can...I mean, he can't...can't _die_...he's not...he's only...it's _my fault_!"

Robin glared at him. "No Much," he growled, "The mistake is mine, not yours. Djaq's right...the way I chose wasn't the only one, I should have done differently..."

John moved around behind Will, glaring at all of them. "That's not getting Much back to camp any faster. You can decide whose fault it is after Will's been taken care of." he all but snarled, settling into a sitting position and looking at Will carefully before glancing at Djaq. "Sword went all the way through..." he muttered, "The tip is here." he gestured to the small of Wills' back, "But not much of it...not as bad as it could be..."

Djaq, eyes beginning to glisten lightly, nodded as John pulled Will back against him in a sort of hug, knowing that there wasn't anything else Djaq could do at the moment and figuring that getting Will as close to lying down as possible would be the best form of action.

Much soon disappeared from view, running in the direction of camp while Robin paced nervously back and forth.

They couldn't afford anymore mistakes.

A few minutes later, Will began to struggle against Johns' grip on him, his ragged breaths turning into a racking cough before resuming slightly more shakily, though he still tried faintly to pull away from John, who held him all the more tightly and looked a question at Djaq.

The saracen frowned and came closer, feeling the wound once more, and looked back at Robin with a frightened glance. "Much needs to hurry..." she said, "there isn't a lot of time left."

Robin flinched at that, remaining silent for lack of anything to say, and slumped against a tree, defeated. Will was dying because of him, because of Allan, because of stupid mistakes that never should have been made.

Will gagged slightly, coughing and choking as his eyes flew open, glassy and not in the least bit focussed. He drew breath to speak, only to end up coughing again several times. Finally getting enough air, he managed to find his voice. "D-djaq!" the cry was quiet, almost inaudible, rasping against his throat and gurgling unpleasently in the blood that was still leaking from his mouth, "What...what happened..." his eyes turned desperate, and he stared straight past her in a way suggesting outright terror, clawing at the gound on either side of him and chest heaving with the effort of remaining awake.

Robin unwittingly took a step closer as John loosened his hold on the young outlaw a little.

Djaq leaned foward a bit, placing one hand on the side of Wills' face and lowering her voice into the most soothing tone she could manage. "You were stabbed," she said, unwilling to break her vows never to lie to an injured person, even if it was Will, "But Much is coming with supplies, try to stay awake."

She could feel Will shaking under her touch, could feel each breath vibrating harshly through him and the heat induced by fear and pain pulsing off of him. He would have a fever by nightfall, if he lasted that long. But if he could just avoid losing consciencness, then he'd have a chance. Much couldn't be that much longer in coming, could he?

Will tried to sit up a little more but, held back by John, went limp after a matter of seconds. "Where's...Robin?" he gasped, looking in all directions.

Djaq tried to calm him, knowing that to ease his fear would be to erase her own. "He's here." she replied.

Will was silent for several moments, breath becoming more and more shallow. "I...I didn't-" he started to say, only to have Djaq interrupt him.

"Shh, we know. Robin told us." she said, "Don't speak; you need to save your energy."

Robin, having been about to come closer, paused to look at John, who bore a worried expression. Much _really _needed to hurry. He came a little closer, looking down at Will with a sad smile. He had to believe Will would be alright, if for no reason other than to feel less guilty about his own mistake. "I'm sorry..." he hesitated, wave after wave of regret washing over him, "Sorry this happened..."

Will seemed to relax a bit, both eyes drifting shut and sighing heavily. "I didn't...I didn't..."

John nodded, worry growing to dread. "We know," he muttered, "The _real _traitor-"

Will shook his head slowly. "No..." he gasped, "I...don't want...to know..." he was panting, fighting once more to draw breath, trying to find something to hold onto, the feeling of numbness starting to increase, the pain starting to fade.

Djaq, eyes wide, hurried to quiet him. "Don't talk," she said again, "But stay awake. You _have _to stay awake."

Will blinked hard, head lolling as he tried to make eye contact with her. "Djaq..." he murmered, "Ha...have t'tell you..."

Djaq frowned sternly at him, silencing him with another gentle hand against his face. "Later." she said simply, breaking off any further statements as she looked up, having heard something.

There was a brief sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves, and Much appeared nearby, holding the bag of Djaqs' medical supplies triumphantly. "I got it!" he announced, hurrying toward them.

Robin practically ran to Muchs' side, clapping him on the shoulder and almost grinning. "Good work!" he took the bag of supplies and handed it to Djaq, noting that Much was, now deprived of being able to hold anything, wringing his hands and staring at Will nervously.

"So he'll be alright now, right?"

Djaq rumaged through the bag for a moment, retrieving a small vial and looking at Much seriously. "I won't be able to tell until the wound is closed and he's had several days of rest, even then he might take a turn for the worst at any moment. Won't really know until a few weeks have passed."

Djaq worked in silence, trying to ignore the agonized cries her work itself was causing, trying to ignore the trembling, the feeble attempts to escape what to a delerious patient, she knew, felt more like torture than a means of healing. She had to remain focussed;

She couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

When at last she removed the sword and slowed the bleeding as best she could, she cleaned the injury and began stitching it swiftly, wanting to cut off the bleeding altogether with as much haste as she could possibly manage while still getting the job done correctly. After that came tending to the exit wound on the back, which was considerably smaller than the swords' entry point, but still dangerously close to the spine.

Gradually, the screams faded to whimpers, the frantic clawing slowed to a lethargic clenching and unclenching of each fist, the sharp, uneven gasping stopped.

Completely.

Djaq paused in her wrapping of the wounds- which she'd been doing with part of Robins' cloak, which he'd offered almost before Djaq had even said she needed it- and looked at Will in confusion. Something wasn't right.

He had gone disturbingly limp, eyes closed and an almost peaceful expression replacing the previously panicked look he'd had.

Djaq looked to John, terror plain in her expression. She leaned close to Wills' face, listening carefully. There was no breathing to be heard or felt.

Nothing.

Muttering a quiet, "No..." Djaq placed a hand against Wills' chest, giving a relieved sigh as she felt the faint, fluttering heartbeat.

She knew better than to think it would last long, and it met her expectations perfectly, coming to a slow stop and leaving her to wonder if all their efforts had been for nothing. Also wondering in the back of her mind what Will had wanted to tell her, if she'd ever know. If he'd ever get the chance to tell her. If it had been a mistake to silence him.

After all, some mistakes could be repaired, and some could not.

Some mistakes cost more than others.

* * *

~Fin~


End file.
